


R. Willington Jons Hammersfeld VII, hero.

by rabidjasmine



Series: It's On the Door [4]
Category: Leagues and Legends - E. Jade Lomax
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-03
Updated: 2016-07-03
Packaged: 2018-07-19 20:59:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7377163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rabidjasmine/pseuds/rabidjasmine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rupert Willington Jons Hammersfeld VII was prepared for most anything. He had lists, schedules, procedures. He doled himself out to save people; he split himself so far he forgot to save parts of him for himself. He defended others, mothered, saved the world one granola bar- one orderly form- at a time. He knew how to walk the world, knew how to achieve his ends through various means. He was a hero, as inevitably as he was a walking star. He crafted himself, his networks, his companions; he crafted his morals through the blood he shed for others. He was silent at the signs of the world’s injustices, and worked quietly to set them right, to erase them. He saved mages with a magic of his own; he faced down outcomes he could not have forseen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	R. Willington Jons Hammersfeld VII, hero.

**Author's Note:**

> Rupert was way harder to write than the others, and this is less canon than headcanon, but let's call it "artistic liberties"

Rupert spent a childhood surrounded by heroes- both aspiring and accomplished. He was raised on stories of epic proportions, rescues and bloodshed and horror. He listened to these stories every day, of the smaller wars and battles, reports on the world’s goings-on. Rupert spent so much of his life around the bravest people, the people that sifted through chaos to find something beautiful; Rupert thought if only they had been organized, they wouldn’t have to go searching.

Rupert’s days were peppered with exciting tales, but they were made up of paperwork, wars fought and won on the proper documentation. He made his own statements and shifted the rules; he learned how to phrase something perfectly, with the tiniest loopholes, to achieve his goals. He saved lives every day- not from monsters, but from the horror of improper paperwork. He memorized every paper in his uncle’s arsenal, organized everything he touched. A spot for everything, and everything in its spot.

Rupert met a purple girl, one day, and spent his childhood making sure she didn’t kill herself. He spent most days as part of a trio- Bart, to fight off the monsters; Sez, to keep the town moving and act as the cornerstone for nearly everything; and Rupert, to make sure everyone stayed healthy, breathing, and prepared. There was nothing in this world that could stop them.

Rupert’s mother went off to dig up old bones and rock. She spent her days extrapolating, extricating. She dug up bones of humans, and figured out their lives from their graves. When she came home to her son, she told him histories of the world she’d viewed. Rupert soaked it up- and also soaked up her sunburns, her disheveled hair, the birdlike bones that had gotten sharper (the ones that meant she hadn’t brought enough food or had forgotten to eat in her excitement). He took notes on her stories, her plans; he drafted possible care packages to send to her.

Rupert learned the world was best when it was orderly. It was easier to sift through documentation when it was alphabetized, easier to stay on schedule with an itinerary. Itemized lists, organized notes, inventories- these became his closest companions. If he listed possible outcomes, he could plan for nearly everything (his uncle bought him a textbook on statistics, once, and he’d carried it everywhere until he memorized it- by far, the best birthday present he’d ever received). He learned to take three of everything, to beg lift spells off of the Academy’s mages and to hoard small pieces until he had full sets of armor. Rupert was nothing if not prepared, if not orderly, because that saved lives.

Rupert never knew his father. He hardly knew his mother, as she was so often away, learning exciting things about civilizations past. His uncle was busy, all the time, running a school of idealistic children. Rupert raised himself, by observing and calculating. He heard the phrase “learn from someone else’s misakes” and took it to heart. Every failure was listed, every solution was marked; he spent years studying trial and error. He grew up knowing the best people saved lives, knowing the best people were the most disorganized.

Rupert remembered the first monster he’d slayed. He had blood on his hands, and no matter how different the monster appeared, he couldn’t stop thinking of Sez, of her blood, of her mother’s. He never once raised a sword to defend himself- he raised it to defend others, because they asked him to, because he was qualified. He gave so much to Sez, because she was his friend and he could protect what she held dear. He gave her his hands, clean of blood, in exchange for others’ lives; he gave her his time, to forge paperwork for those deserving but unable to receive an education; he gave her his silence, his companionship, because that’s what she didn’t have; he gave her his voice, because he could read and she couldn’t. He sliced off his parts to make up for her inabilities, because he thought that would save her. He was raised knowing that people save others, and never though twice about balancing her world- balance was best, balance saved lives.

Rupert was a hero, the inevitable kind. Built by his life, his home, his companions- inevitably born into a world where eventually, he would become one. His genetics predisposed him, his home planted ideas, the heroes around him earned his interest, his worship, and- well- it was the easiest way to organize everyone. Shouldn’t it be the leader’s job to keep everyone alive?

Rupert met Laney, who made the world bend around her, into the shapes she wanted it to be- he sympathized with that. He met Jack, who wanted the world to be right, and just- so did he, though they had different definitions. He met Grey, who sometimes forgot to eat when he was reading- Grey reminded him of his mother, of the people he’d worked so hard to provide spaces for. He saw the signs of sparks and stayed silent. He packed a third of Grey’s favorite granola bars, and made sure his paperwork was extra airtight.

Rupert grudgingly allowed Jack to help him slay monsters, less grudgingly allowed Laney. More people meant more variables, more chaos, more supplies, but these two were good. Jack knew what he was doing; Laney was plenty prepared herself. He packed more armor, more weapons; he managed to acquire stronger lift spells, and added to his inventories. He brushed up on policies, laws, was prepared to defend their actions to any authorities. Rupert was ready, for anything. He added supplies for Grey, too- he was not disappointed.

He was not, however, expecting massive beasts of fire to descend upon his home. He was only one man.

Rupert was also not prepared for Laney to be taken by slavers, because his statistics registered that outcome as a tenth of a percent probable, and he kicked himself for his stupidity. It was good that he was prepared to take off immediately, when Laney asked.

Rupert was prepared to be a baby League. He had all the paperwork lined out since the fish shop. He was prepared for mountains, for long journeys, for finding offices to check in at. He was in his element, if only briefly.

Rupert had a list prepared for the Dragon Slayer since he’d first heard of St. George. He had questions lined up for the Piper and Giantkiller, too, and yet he was finding himself increasingly less prepared; he did not expect them to be _Jack_ , to be _Jack’s friends_ , and again he kicked himself. He also did not anticipate the Piper to be Laney’s brother, but then again- neither did Laney.

(He did, actually, plan for Grey to be related to the Graves. It was far more probable than other outcome’s he’d considered, and it would match the paperwork- it was almost a relief to him, to know he was still prepared for some things.)

Rupert was prepared for battle, for slavers. He was, by then, prepared for surprises. He had been in Jack’s stable loft group; he knew how to take blows, fall elegantly, and get the hell back up.

He didn’t know how to take Grey’s proclamations of “walking star.”

On the one hand, of course. Obviously. He didn’t know his father; he spent his days setting the world right; Theresa was all the proof he needed.

On the other; how did he not notice before? How could he just accept this revelation?

It was on unsteady feet, for the first time since he learned to walk, that Rupert was caught in a mine shaft explosion; and though he could plan for anything, he wasn’t prepared for this trip, for these discoveries, for the people he’d met and the friends he’d made.

Rupert Willington Jons Hammersfeld VII was prepared for most anything. He had lists, schedules, procedures. He doled himself out to save people; he split himself so far he forgot to save parts of him for himself. He defended others, mothered, saved the world one granola bar- one orderly form- at a time. He knew how to walk the world, knew how to achieve his ends through various means. He was a hero, as inevitably as he was a walking star. He crafted himself, his networks, his companions; he crafted his morals through the blood he shed for others. He was silent at the signs of the world’s injustices, and worked quietly to set them right, to erase them. He saved mages with a magic of his own; he faced down outcomes he could not have forseen.

Rupert was not the typical hero, not like Jack. Not like Laney. He did not brandish his weapons like they did, did not choose the same ones. He was not a strong leader like he was taught to be, and yet he still headed the missions, drafted the plans. No, he would not go down in history books as brilliant or fierce.

Rupert would go down in history as the one who saved the day by outwitting, outplanning, outsmarting his enemy. His heroics lied in perfect calm.

**Author's Note:**

> this one was supposed to be the shortest, because Rupert is a slippery little character. and yet.  
> so this should be the last one. I might do cassandra too. maybe.


End file.
